


Madre

by killbot2000



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Courier has a lot of feelings, Dead Money DLC, Gen, Minor Veronica/Christine, minor PTSD, mlm/wlw solidarity, new vegas fanfiction in the year of our lord 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 12:00:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14769210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killbot2000/pseuds/killbot2000
Summary: The courier reunites his new friend with one of his oldest friends.





	Madre

**Author's Note:**

> All, if any, mistakes are mine because I'm not rereading this again.

A lot of pre-war notions pointed to the existence of either heaven or hell. Vada believed in neither, seeing that if he did, every single person he knew would be condemned to damnation, and he didn't believe that. There were exceptions, surely, for a hellish world that good people couldn't live in. They all perished, their characters tarnished by the sands and bullets. No, he believed in forgiveness, death giving everyone a chance to begin again. 

But here, now, undoubtedly, this was hell. This is where the bad people went to die, and this was where he would surely draw his last breath. 

The Cloud covered everything. It obscured the walls, the tops of the buildings, and the air in front of his face. It ate away at his windpipe and lungs, caused his skin to dry and crack and itch, and stung his eyes like the smoke of a burning corpse. The Cloud was the first thing he saw when he woke, and it would be the last as he closed his eyes when he gave up. 

In consumed the Madre in a bloody haze, the residue caking on everything like a layer of rust, old and decaying. Every breath stung and every blink screamed of a thousand cosmic knives. 

But then, inside the casino, he finally felt a sort of peace. He couldn't sleep or eat still, but the routine of the holograms and gentle stillness settled his nerves. The inside was a blur, a maze of thick carpeting, intricate wallpaper, and the coolness of the concrete under the floor and walls. It was soundproof, bulletproof, and the perfect coffin to birth paranoia. But the routine was his downfall, he misjudged, misstep, misshot. The erraticness of human behavior could never be replicated in code. On the last collar he was ready to accept defeat. The blood he may or may not have spilt was unavoidable. He wouldn't do any more, not for the old man. 

How are you still alive? Why won't you give up? 

Vada ignored it, for now. It was persistent, corrosive like the Cloud. His collar beeped and he ran. 

The old man had mentioned a new voice on ‘the mute’ as he called her. Vada disliked it from the start. She was the only slice of humanity he had found in this hell, and the only thing that reminded him there was still a world beyond the Madre. 

The Auto-Doc had been successful in giving her a voice, attaching it to her larynx like a bent nail. It wasn't perfect, it would eventually give under its compromised integrity, but it held for now. Christine spoke as he expected her to: with the authority of an aged soldier. But the sounds didn't match. 

“You sound like the woman on the radio.” And he couldn't take it anymore. He ran toward her, burying his face in her shoulder, holding her tight. Tight enough that not even the Madre could have her. 

“I can't lose you, not after this-” Vada’s voice broke, and he thumbed away his own tears. “I didn't want to tell you until it was the right time,” he looked expectantly at her, dropping his arms. 

“We haven't got a much better time than this.” She told him, words harsh but not unkind. 

Something urged him on, the devotion to his friends back home, perhaps. “I- I know you. Someone's told me about you. I know Elijah too, what he did to you both-” 

Her eyes hardened into bronze bullet casings that littered the Mojave highways, “He used his status to drive us apart.” There was a hitch in her voice, and she remembered, he knew she would remember. “Veronica.” 

“She loved you. And she still does.” Vada took her hand, “She tells me about you, and- and you have the chance to see her again. I owe her to at least try, but- only if you will.” 

Christine looked dizzy, her already pale face lightened, looking stark against the black of the uniform she wore. “I- I can't. She's moved on by now, she has a life in the chapter. I can't make her leave.” 

“It’ll work out, I can't promise it, but I do have certain... influences that may help.” He smiled, although sombre and exhausted, it lit his face. The tracks from tears cut through the dust and blood on his skin. 

The woman sighed, then hesitantly took him into her arms again. Vada could feel the bridge of her nose in the crook of his neck above the collar. It has been weeks since he felt something warm besides the insides of the Ghost People. Even those were rotten and sickly. It had been months now. The old man kept him collared and chained like an animal. He felt feral and useless, but now for the first time in the Madre he felt human again. 

“I can't, Vada. She doesn't want to see me again.” She finally let him go, “But you do, I know you do. You have something to live for.” 

He opened his mouth to protest but she spoke to the elevator. “Let go, begin again.” And he had no choice but to descend to the vault. 

The ordeal was long, difficult, straining. He left the old man to rot with his gold, and Vada took not a single piece. The elevator brought him back to the hotel, through what felt like miles of the Cloud. The claustrophobia nearly suffocated him along with the red air, but the coolness of the courtyard soon relieved him. 

It was empty, save for the hologram of Vera. She stood still, now for the rest of eternity. Vada holstered the pistol in his hand and sat upon the wall of the fountain, taking in the Sierra Madre for the last time. The Cloud seeped from the streets of the villa, slowly gaining ground in the courtyard. 

There was a soft wind, touching his exposed face with a gentle hand. 

“Christine?” 

The figure in the Cloud grew closer. It contorted and stretched taller; solidifying into the shape of a person. 

“Christine?” 

The Cloud released her, letting him finally see her face. She looked regretful, but maybe a little proud. 

“I've changed my mind. Maybe the Madre is right. I can begin again.” He smiled at her and she laughed, high and ringing. It nearly made him forget the hell they had spent the last months in. 

The trip back was senseless, directionless, against heavy winds Vada knew was only an extension of the Cloud, keeping the Madre safe and secret. Safe from what, he didn't know. There weren't many things worse than what he'd seen in there. 

He doubted that would be the last time anyone would step foot in the Villa, but he thought it should be so. The last heist, the closest, yet again unsuccessful. All because an old man heard of the treasure, and like all others refused to let go, and fell into the fate of greed. 

The trip stretched on, over what could've been across mountains. The trail wove between huge heights, stained red by the Cloud, although it was less potent than the casino. Layers of the residue clung to the sides of the mountains in sheets. Vada stretched his hand out and drew his fingers across the red wall. It fell to the ground like sand. 

“Do you remember coming here?” He asked her. 

She shook her head, the scars deepening their red color inside the Cloud, “My memory is too spotty to guess at anything. Damn auto-doc stuck its needles where it shouldn't’ve.” 

He nodded grimly, “Brains shouldn't be disturbed.” He couldn't count on two hands the amount of issues that had sprung from his accident. Memory seemed to be one of the most prominent, though. 

Christine only looked at him curiously and remained silent. The sand under their feet kept their steps silent, dampening any trace of their existence in the canyon. 

They kept heading north, hoping only to walk up into the Mojave again. 

The Cloud did dissipate, letting oranges and greens show their heads. Vada nearly cried being able to see color again. The blood stained air soon disappeared and the blue sky stretched out far above them like a mother’s smile. A roadside sign proudly proclaimed that they were entering California. 

“Can you do this?” Vada was shading his eyes from the sun, and stopped to look at her. 

“It's too late to turn back. I doubt the Madre would let me back in.” She smiled, “Yeah, I can. It's about time I did. I'm tired of this life.” Christine adjusted the scarf around her head, took a moment to fiddle with her gun. “She was the only thing in this world worth living for. I only made it this far with her memory.” 

Vada nodded. He stayed quiet, and kept walking. There was nothing he could say. 

Several days later they reached the gates to Vegas. Its lights flashed, the boom of the robot’s voices echoed off the stone walls. Christine looked overwhelmed, the colored lights playing over her pale face, an expression of grim wonder over her face. 

“It's this one.” Vada told her, gently taking her hand and pulling her to the Lucky 38. The inside of the casino was stale and bleak as always, and Vada was aware of the horrible fear that gripped him. He could feel the eyes of the holograms on him, the tightness around his neck, the pounding of the blood in his ears because the dead silence offered no solace. Bile rose in his throat, his breathing hitched. 

A pressure came from his hand, and he looked down. His hand was still in Christine’s, and she gave it another squeeze. “Nothing can hurt you here.” She whispered. 

He blinked, several tears falling from his lashes. But he took a breath, it was shallow and shaky and he repeated her words to himself. He would not die today. Still, he flinched when the elevator dinged and couldn't shake the paranoia. There would be a day when he could sleep in the casino again, but for now he was only there to fulfill the promise he made. 

The doors opened. 

“Stay put.” 

He walked to the kitchen, where he picked out Veronica’s laugh. His friends sat together, cooking food and playing cards. Rex lay fast asleep on the carpet at Raul’s feet. He stepped into the doorframe and they all looked up. He must've been a sight, because Veronica’s face was shocked, soon replaced with concern. They all stayed still, the air thick with tension. How long had he been gone? 

Vada cleared his throat and found his voice much more ruined than he remembered, like a hundred year old smoker’s lung. “Veronica, there's someone I'd like you to see.” 

Her face changed to something he couldn't quite pin down, but it might've been relief. Beside him, Christine set her hand on his shoulder. What did love look like? 

“Hi.”


End file.
